by Margaret Way
“Besides, we’ve all worked ourselves silly,” Angelica said, having taken up a position against the stone pillar for support.
“So, dear,” said Stacy most affectionately, “when are you going to take your shower?”
“Just as soon as I can get myself around the back,” Angelica replied. “I can’t go through the front door like this.” She glanced down at her ruined shirt and jeans.
“Not when you’re positively dripping dirty water,” said Dinah with a kind of relish. “I think I’ll be the one to greet Jake when he returns.”
It was nearing midnight before Jake and his team felt confident to return to the home compound. They had watched and waited for any sign of a flare-up. Then around eleven they had a patch of rain. It was nothing approaching the substantial downpour they wanted, just an erratic scatter of heavy drops. Still, it was enough to dampen the ground and allow the temperature to drop.
The lights were on at the homestead. He expected Stacy and Gilly would be waiting. They had never been active women like Angel who wanted to pitch in there and help. His father would have forbidden them anyway. Both of them were frightened of the spot fires that broke out somewhere on the station every summer. Even then, Coori was prepared. Not only prepared but blessed. It had its interlocking system of creeks, bores, billabongs, lagoons, swamps. Wypanga Creek was one of the reasons they hadn’t had a roaring bushfire on their hands tonight.
Angel had certainly pulled her weight, sharing the burden with the men. He blamed himself though for not sending her home earlier. Had that flaming branch hit her she could have been badly burnt. He found the thought devastating, like a punch in the gut but she had simply shrugged it off. Still he had allowed her to get herself exhausted. Oh hell! He swore he would make it up to her.
They had their big day tomorrow and the ball at night. He knew he would be reinvigorated after a few hours’ sleep. His life was a hard one, physically demanding. Angel for all her fitness and positive attitudes was a woman. No woman had the same capacity for hard physical toil as a man. She had worked her beautiful butt off tonight. He would never forget it. He would never forget the way she had looked at him, her heart in her eyes. He knew she would be waiting for him as she had promised.
For long minutes he forgot Dinah was in the house. Dinah who was supposed to be in love with him. It seemed extraordinary now he had ever considered Dinah as a wife. Even in passing. They had shared a friendship for most of their lives. His father had wanted the marriage. His father had actually approved of Dinah when he had been a man who’d approved of very few. Maybe that was one of the reasons he couldn’t really cotton to Dinah. She had what was for him a terrible flaw. She lacked heart.
He had to have a serious talk with Dinah. Level with her, though he had tried often enough in the past. It only held her back to persist with this bred-in idea marriage was the only answer for people like them.
He trudged up the front steps to the verandah intending to sit a few moments with the women before taking himself off to the shower block at the rear of the house. He was far too begrimed for anything else. At his halting footsteps, Stacy, followed by Gillian then Dinah, rushed out to greet him.
Stacy had tears in her eyes. “Jake, darling. What can I say?”
She made to hug him but he drew back laughing, holding up his hands. “For God’s sake, Stacy, I’m filthy!”
“Would I care?”
“Let’s leave the hugs until morning.” He grinned. “I must look like the survivor of a war.”
To Dinah, who despite her best efforts came in third in their race to the door, he looked marvellous. A living sculpture of a wild man, his glorious hair near crow-black with stray locks of gold, his skin so darkened his eyes glittered like topaz gems. Why couldn’t he see they were meant for each other? That Angelica woman was the danger. But she had taken herself off to bed, thank God, leaving her, Dinah, to support him. She could easily get rid of Stacy and Gillian. She’d done it any number of times over the years.
Only it didn’t work out that way. They talked for a little while. Clary emerged in her nightclothes to check everything was all right, when suddenly Jake stood up, his manner signalling conversation was at an end for the night.
“We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he said, already moving down the front steps. “I want it to be special. I want you girls to look your best. Which means you need your beauty sleep. I’m sorry Angel went off to bed. I wanted to thank her for everything she did.”
He tried to keep his deep disappointment out of his voice. She had promised him she’d wait, but he didn’t blame her in the least for finding her bed. She had a demanding day coming up. It wasn’t fair to her after such a traumatic night. But still he grieved.
As the others retired, Dinah rushed forward to slide her arms around him with a rush of blood to the face. “Why don’t you come to my room afterwards?” She pitched her voice low. “Let me comfort you. I so want to.”
He forced a smile. “I think a good scrub is what I need, Dinah. Thanks for caring.”
Dinah only nodded. “I’ll leave my door unlocked,” she whispered, not a whit concerned by the fact her expensive white linen shirt was now badly soiled from contact with his body.
It took him less than a minute to let himself in the rear of the house, then walk down the passageway to what the family called the “wet” room. Stacy and Gillian rarely if ever used it but the men of the house always had after a hard day in the saddle. The room contained several shower cubicles along one wall. Washbasins to the other side topped by mirrors to shave. There were cupboards that ran down the centre of the room to divide one area from the other. A long bench to sit on. It had a lot in common with a men’s locker room.
Once inside, he switched on the light, before locking the door. He wouldn’t put it past Dinah to chase him up. He wished for the ten thousandth time she’d find someone else. Her preoccupation with becoming mistress of Coori amounted to an obsession. He started shucking off his clothes as he rounded the line of cabinets to find towels. Tired and filthy as he was, a profound longing to see Angel swept over him.
He said her name. His special name for her. He didn’t know if he said it aloud. A few seconds more and he staggered to a halt, his surprise giving way to a great surge of joy. For a moment he couldn’t even believe his eyes.
There she was fast asleep on the floor. A small light above her illuminated her sleeping face. She was nearly as begrimed as he was, her beautiful skin covered in black streaks like a soldier’s camouflage. Her shoulders were mashed up against a locker.
“Angel!” He squatted down. “Angel, my darling, what are you doing asleep on the floor?” He groaned with the intense feeling he couldn’t hold back. “Sweetheart, wake up,” he said softly, allowing his fingers to curl around her dimpled chin.
She didn’t move.
He slid his arms around her, intending to pull her up, but her eyelashes flickered, then her head pitched forward a little towards his chest.
“Jonathon!” She peered up at him, slightly frowning as though she doubted he was really there. But she could see his remarkable eyes shining out of his blackened face. She reached out and placed the tips of her fingers against his cheek. Checking if he was real flesh. “You’re back!” Her voice betrayed her wonder.
“It’s all over. The fire’s out. It’s past midnight. What happened to you?”
She gave a shaky laugh, dumbstruck she hadn’t made it up off the floor. “Would you believe I was going to take a shower. I was much too wet and dirty to go into the house. Here seemed the right place. I walked along to get a towel, but I must have felt dizzy for a moment. I plonked down here to recover, but I guess sleep overcame me. I don’t seem to have moved.”
“Well you have to move now,” he said. “Let me help you. You need a shower, then bed.” Gently, very gently, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to her feet. Even in his condition he felt driving desire and protectiveness at opposite poles. She smelt
of fire, as he knew he did, but it might have been the ultimate fragrance. Her long hair was covered in a fine red dust.
“I think I’ve forgotten how to walk.” She gave a little laugh that came out like a sob.
“I’ll carry you.” All he knew was, he wanted her in his arms.
“I know you’re very strong but you must be dead on your feet, as well.”
He wasn’t. Not now. His blood was running like a molten river of lava.
“Have we got any shampoo?” she asked as he deposited her outside the first cubicle.
“We’ve got everything,” he said with certainty. Clary made sure of it.
“You need to clean up as much as I do,” she called after him with concern.
“So you take that shower recess and I’ll take the one at the end. Does that fit in with your idea of the proprieties?”
“Proprieties depend on the situation at the time,” she said wryly, possessed by the image of him. Even after battling a fire, soot-blackened, he was startlingly virile and handsome.
Her long hair that when the wind caught it reminded him of a raven’s wing was filmed with grime. He touched her, putting the plastic bottle of shampoo into her hand. All tiredness had sloughed away from him like the skin of a desert snake. Nevertheless he got himself mobile. “You can get undressed. I promise I won’t look.”
“What’s so terrible about a naked woman?” Exhilaration made her laugh.
“A beautiful, seductive, naked woman,” he amended dryly. “You have too much power. The aborigines call it woman-magic. I discovered that when I first kissed you. What do you imagine would happen if I suddenly turned around?”
“You won’t.”
He heard the smile in her voice. “Why not?”
“Because you gave your word. Anyway, I’m ready.”
“Good. I’ll leave a couple of towels and a robe on the bench.”
She turned on the taps, standing under the good strong spray that felt like a waterfall. She held up her face as exhaustion slid away with the soot. “Oh, this is heaven!” she cried, intensely aware he was only a short distance away, but not fazed by anything. For that moment—for long minutes until she was squeaky-clean—that was enough. She knew she wasn’t in control of herself. She didn’t care. Her heart’s flutter was so pronounced she could feel it beating under her palm.
She soaped every inch of her body while she imagined soaping him. She could even feel the bronze-velvet texture of his skin. The scent of shampoo and boronia-perfumed soap surrounded her like a cloud. It was a marvellous feeling to get clean.
Finally when her ablutions were over, she slid open the door, hearing Jake humming quietly to himself as he continued to shower. He had a tuneful baritone. An old love song. She knew every word…
A profound daring swept over her. She slipped into the man’s white towelling robe that was too big for her, padding softly in the direction of his shower cubicle. “Jonathon, how are you?” she called.
There was a short silence then she heard his voice. “To tell you the truth I’m longing for you to join me, though we both know what that would result in.”
The vibrant tones were edged with self mockery.
“I’m already here.” She placed her hand on the chrome knob, impelled to open the steam-clouded door.
The male perfection of his body stopped her in her tracks. He was an athlete, with the stature of a warrior. He was bronze all over, with no line of white anywhere. She knew the men on the station didn’t give a damn about skinny-dipping after working in the intense heat. The hair at his groin was the same bright amber as the thick waves of his head. Rivulets of water ran down his noble body, a body classical in its construction. He glistened like a man freshly scrubbed.
“God, Angel!” Her impulsive action had knocked the breath from him.
“Stop me if you want to,” she said, finding it impossible to move or look away.
“You know things will get out of hand?” He gave her fair warning, making no attempt to turn away from her ravished eyes.
“In that event I’m coming in.” Very slowly she slid the robe down her body, allowing it to drop to the tiled floor.
Her eyes were enormous, deep and liquid, black as night. Her hair ran down her back like a bolt of satin. He stood beneath the running water transfixed by her as she had been transfixed by him. Undressed she seemed even more slender than she was in her clothes. Her shoulders were beautiful, sloping away from her long graceful neck. Her waist beneath her exquisite full breasts designed to be fondled, caressed by a man’s hand, seemed tiny by comparison. He felt sure he could span it. Her stomach was taut, her hips gently rounded. A tiny patch of black silk veiled her secret core. Her legs were as perfect as any woman’s could be. She was the reincarnation of a goddess.
The sense of inevitability was dazzling. He felt a rush of primitive passion he could not fight off. Face drawn, he took hold of her almost fiercely, pulling her with great urgency into the cubicle. There he backed her up against the glass wall, one arm locked tightly around her waist. He used his knee to separate her beautiful legs. The shock of having her naked, trembling flesh against him was so great it might have been mistaken for inner conflict. He could feel the muscles of his face and his body tautening as it came into intimate contact with hers. He could feel his manhood instantly react, swelling with power and desire. She had made it clear she wanted him. Now he would never let her get away.
They were both bathed in steam. Heat rushing inside and out. His heart pounding, he cupped her moisture-slicked breasts, bent his head to her nipples, flushed with colour. He felt her shudder with rapture as his tongue flicked back and forth, before his mouth came down suckling passionately but with an underlying tenderness he scarcely knew was his gift.
“Jonathon,” she cried out, gasping.
“I’m powerless to stop.” Now he ground her hips against his as she came up on her toes to accommodate him.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Her body clung like some wondrous, sinuous vine. “I long for you.”
He lost himself then. Lost everything but her. Exultantly he possessed her wet mouth; twining his tongue around hers, thrilled by a depth of passion that matched his own. He let his hands move down over her body, groaning with pleasure at the brush of his hands against her olive, scented flesh. She made him so happy. It was perfect. It was torture. He was deliberately holding back in the tumultuous pursuit of sensation. He wanted to pleasure her as she was delighting him. He wanted to prolong this experience like no other, conscious a tide of excitement was welling higher and higher.
Now suddenly with closed eyes, he placed a finger at the entrance to her vagina. Nothing more. Yet it unleashed a great torrent of emotion. Her moans changed in tone, coming in melting gasps, like she was losing her breath. He wanted to fill her with his driving male lust and his longing, with his love. He wanted to mate with her. He was saturated with excitement. Outside of himself.
“Angel!” He gazed down into her face. Passion had redefined her superb bone structure, the skin so taut she looked chiselled. She was magic! He had no intention of ever letting her get away.
CHAPTER TEN
AT DAWN they melded into each other again. They had spent the night together in Jake’s huge king-size bed, making love so glorious the memory of it would never be erased. Later, they were stunned by the revelation they slept wrapped in each other’s arms. Not two separate people but close enough for one. Now they re-sought that passionate connection while beyond the verandah, the great symphony of birds brought music to their sexual rapture.
When finally Jake rose to his feet, she put out her arms to entice him back to her side. “Don’t go.” She wore nothing but the sheet that barely covered her breasts. He could see the deep cleft between them like a smudge of lavender on her olive-ivory skin.
“It’s getting late.” If he re-entered that bed, he felt he would never get up again.
“Yes. Yes, I know.” She sighed voluptuously. “
Just sit down for a moment more.” She waited then nestled her head beneath his arm to kiss his ribs. “You are the most wonderful lover.”
“Good enough to make you stay with me?” He stared down at her. For all their passionate lovemaking, hitherto unimagined or even dreamed of, neither had uttered those momentous words, “I love you.”
“It’s marvellous here.” She continued to kiss his flesh. “I want it always to be like this. You and me. Come back to bed.” She moved over enticingly.
He smiled, amber eyes brilliant. There wasn’t a trace of tiredness in him for all the experiences of the day before and the fact they’d had little repose. “Don’t tempt me,” he said very dryly.
“A little longer. I’ve never known anyone like you.” She knelt to cover his shoulders in kisses, her breasts curving in satin globes against his back. “One more time,” she sighed.
“You’re insatiable!” My God, and he wasn’t? “Don’t we have a full day?”
She kissed beneath his ear. “I thought time had stood still.”
“Angel…” He was weakening, desire rippling into his body on a king tide.
“Tonight then?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He pulled her down so her beautiful glossy hair spilled all over her face. “Tomorrow, as well. And the next day. And the next day…” His voice was hypnotic. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Kiss me,” she begged, aware of the fluttering that had started up in the pit of her stomach and moved to between her legs.
“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, moving the silky cascade of hair from her face. Nevertheless he risked it.
And was completely lost.
For Angelica the day moved on a high. Nothing went wrong. Nothing could go wrong such was the happiness and optimism of her emotional level. She was in love with the most wonderful man. She believed he loved her, both of them overwhelmed by an experience so divine it was like the gates of heaven had been opened to them, leaving them voiceless with reverence. Even the mercury favoured them, dropping a few degrees though it soared again during the afternoon’s play.